Karma
by Neko-sama no Kokoro
Summary: No one can stay a child forever. Even adults have games they play, but the children cannot understand. They cannot win. [Lavi x Road]
1. Karma Part I

Karma

Disclaimer: Not mine.

WARNING: While there is no actual graphic sex scene in this fic, people will be having sex, and there are themes of rape. If you don't want to read that, don't read this. As I said, there isn't graphic sex, but this deserves a high rating for a reason.

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_Foolish humans._

Even now, she couldn't stop the thought from passing through her mind. That had been a part of her life for less time than had passed since it ended, but she still wasn't able to think of herself as quite the same. Those homeless creatures wandering the icy stone streets, those painted women peering out from behind curtains nervously as they waited for someone to enter their lair – they were weak and mortal.

She was not.

She'd faced death numerous times and survived; faced the wrath of God and lived, with her dignity intact. She'd used countless humans in her game, and even some immortal creatures, and ruined some and threw the others aside. She'd had such power…

And then, she'd fallen.

It was not hubris. The only fault was that she had been born into such a position, and facing a power greater than her own.

Even now, five years later, she remembered the feeling of death sweep over her – the first stroke to open her soul, and the second to cut it away. And suddenly, she was not the manipulator anymore, but a girl. A normal girl.

But she had her pride. She had never given that up.

A breath of wind blew past and the cold seared through her thin snow-white dress into her flesh. She shivered involuntarily as it enveloped her for a brief moment, then moved on. Her fingers trembled, reaching for her cloak to pull it closer. She'd felt the cold then, too. It meant nothing. Nothing.

But… She really should find a place to spend the night. She was quickly running out of money from what she'd found in the ruins of her home mere months ago – how had it taken four years for it to be destroyed? yet it did not change the fact that the last physical fragment of her old life was gone – but it would cost her little to find a room in this small town. There must be an inn somewhere – ah, there – the sign above the door with a fancy name engraved, but it couldn't be anything else. She could stay there.

The cold seeped through her shoes, too, but she ignored this and kept walking. It would be warm inside.

As soon as she pushed open the door, she regretted her decision, however.

The smell of alcohol had permeated the room to the point where she knew it would smell like a bar even if completely abandoned. The vast majority of patrons were completely intoxicated, and a number had passed out onto tables and chairs. The quiet noises she'd heard from the inn had apparently been the snores and drunken odes, masquerading as conversational chatter. One conscious man had a plump young barmaid sitting on his lap – her dark hair covered her chest, which was plainly bare and – oh dear – she shielded her eyes; even if they had not yet gone as far as they could, there was relatively little flirtatious banter compared to physical contact.

Bile rose in her throat, she did _not_ want to be here. But where else could she go…?

In her observation of the couple she failed to notice the drunken man lurching towards her until his hand was on her waist and he was spinning her around to face him. She recoiled in disgust; the man's breath stunk of alcohol! On top of that, he was dirty, and his face held a lecherous grin. She shivered again, and not because of the cold. The drunk reached out a hand to stroke her long black hair, getting his fingers caught in the inevitable snarls. When she flinched, he laughed – a guttural sound that reminded her of a pig – and drew her closer.

"Pretty girl," he breathed to the top of her head – she had turned to face away from him. "Won't you stay with me tonight?"

"No, I-" She elbowed him in the stomach, and he staggered away, moaning in pain. As he reached out to grab her arm, her eyes caught sight of a fractured candlestick, the wick burning brightly. How familiar, she thought. It must be fate that allowed such a thing to save her so often. As he pulled her closer yet again, she drove the sharp jagged end into his arm, wrenching it around to widen the wound.

He screamed. She yanked the candlestick fragment, still burning, out of the flesh and backed away.

The fierce look in her eyes was that of a murderer.

"I will not let myself be defiled by you," she hissed.

And suddenly she realized that he was intoxicated – he was irrational. She'd never faced someone without thoughts, without fears before; how could she manipulate someone who was completely unpredictable.

With a roar of anger, he charged at her. Her fingers clutched the candlestick tightly, but she was frozen – she could do nothing but stand and watch, eyes wide in fear, as he came towards her.

He was close enough to touch her when spots of red blossomed on his chest.

And he was falling – down, into a table –

three knives in his chest.

It was not the sight of blood, or the corpse, that made her legs numb and collapse from under her. As she reached the floor, she felt warm hands reach under her arms and support her, pulling her up against a warm body.

It felt… nice. Her cheeks flushed red, unsure of the proper reaction to being saved. It was an unfamiliar experience to her. As she turned around to see the face of her rescuer, she felt those hands grab onto her wrists and his chin nudged her face forward. She was trapped, yet strangely enough, she felt no fear.

"You should be more careful, little lady," he whispered in her ear. "There are dangerous people out at this time of night."

"Then why are you here?" she responded. Her voice was surprisingly calm.

He smiled against her hair. "It's my duty. Besides, who says I'm not a dangerous person myself? I killed that man." He nodded towards the corpse.

"Killing does not make one a bad person," she said softly. She had never let go of that conviction.

"Doesn't it?" His hands moved quickly, pinning her arms to her thin waist. "But how would an innocent young lady such as you know that?"

She turned slightly, towards him. "Who says I'm innocent?" she demanded indignantly.

He chuckled lightly. "I'm sure you know less about the world than you think."

"You'd be surprised." Yet it was she who was surprised, when she finally saw his face. Those once-emotional green eyes were full of mirth now, yet it was colder than she remembered. Still, the red hair and the patch over his right eye – it _had_ to be him, that Bookman apprentice. Lavi, that was his name. She hadn't seen him in years… he'd aged very well, becoming even handsomer than he once was. Handsomer… the colour on her cheeks darkened, making it easier to mask the shock she had felt.

"You say you are experienced, yet become flustered at the sight of a man's face?" He raised an eyebrow and gave her a mocking look.

"A… a different kind of experience." She had intended to lie, yet as soon as the words escaped her lips she realized how advantageous her situation was. Here was a man whose heart she had already toyed with… how much could he have changed in five years, in personality? He believed her to be a strange young woman; it would be remarkably easy to manipulate him into… into…

It was not surprising to her that she no longer needed a reason for her behaviour. It was a part of her personality, as protecting friends or the achievement of power had been for others she had once known. Her purpose in life was the game that she played, the never-ending toying of the lives of others. It had not changed even with the loss of open power.

She had a different kind of power now – the power of her beauty.

"Indeed," he murmured. "Surprising, though, for such an attractive young lady."

"Thank you." She raised her gaze to meet his, willing her eyes not to betray her plans. "Although I have never met a man as handsome as you, stranger. Perhaps that has played a role?"

His lips twitched upwards into a satisfied smile. "Then shall I teach you the ways of men, fair lady?" His hands slipped away from her arms, one resting on her hip while the other caught her hand and raised it to his lips. She shivered involuntarily and cursed her body for its weakness. He grinned.

"Please do, sir," she whispered in a low tone. And, as he turned, their hands still enclosed, to lead her away, she could not help but smile.

As before, he had fallen into her trap.

They had barely made it inside the empty room when he slammed the door shut and locked it, then turned to her. She gave him a calm stare in return, standing in the middle of the room and doing nothing. He smiled.

"Now that I look at you, you really are a very beautiful young woman," he muttered, eyeing her. For once, she chose not to think about what was on his mind; she knew enough of men, and him in particular, to know that it almost certainly related to her without her thin white dress. "You're not underage, are you?"

Oh, he was worried about _that_? "I have recently turned eighteen," she said, with an edge of indignant wrath in her voice, but not enough to turn him off. "That is old enough, is it not?"

"Still so innocent…" She gave him a questioning glance; he shook it off. "It's nothing. There was a woman I loved, once – this is probably the wrong time for it," and it was, as he had removed his shirt and was reaching towards the buttons of her dress, "but you reminded me of her. Just a little, nothing really, but you both have that fiery personality at times, yet mostly calm." She slid her arms out and pressed the material to her chest; he removed his shoes. "Maybe it's the hair. She once had hair like yours – long, dark and silky."

"What happened to her?" She really was genuinely curious. If it was that woman…

"Oh, nothing." He waved her question away and tugged her hands away from the dress, letting it fall to the ground. "She was younger than you are now when she became an adult, that's all."

"I am an adult." He looked at her serious face and laughed.

"You're still innocent. Don't fool yourself."

"Less than you think; I _told _you that."

His fingers were pulling at his belt, loosening his pants.

"You aren't now – but you will be when I'm done with you."

He pushed her back on the bed and claimed her lips as her eyes fluttered shut and her hands reached up to clasp his shoulders…

The sun had not yet risen by the time they were done. He separated himself from her and lay back on the bed, exerting a satisfied sigh. Holding the covers close to her as she had once done with the abandoned dress, she sat up to look at him.

"What are you thinking," she murmured to herself, yet he still heard and looked up at her quizzically.

"That you have a gorgeous body." He smirked. "Perfect, absolutely perfect." His fingers reached to pull away the material pressed against her once again, but she turned away, embarrassed, and jerked the fabric from his grasp, shaking her head. With a shrug, he lay down again and turned away.

It was time, she thought, to think of a use for him - a permanent income? A travel guardian, until she could find a place for her manipulations to be used? Yes, perhaps that – a kind of bodyguard, subject to the desires of his body that only she could grant. She turned back to him, letting one hand fall down to touch his arm and the other loosened her grip on the bedcovers as they slipped down her upper body.

"That was an… enjoyable night," she said in a low, seductive, yet natural tone. "You must be very experienced at this kind of thing." His cocky grin allowed her to continue. "I… I'm a traveler, seeking to go to London – if it isn't too much out of your way, would you…" Her eyes were wide, in a contrast to her voice. She was aware that she was the exact image of a beautiful young girl with a crush, the kind of woman no man could resist.

And indeed, he was no different. "Why, that happens to be exactly the direction in which I am going. I assume you are asking for company along your long journey?"

"…Yes… I don't intend to impose on you, but I'm very lonely." She turned away slightly with a feigned look of embarrassment. "Thank you."

He smiled pleasantly at her. "The pleasure is mine."

There was a moment of calm silence until she remembered a key item – "Ah! I can't believe how foolish I am – I forgot to ask your name, dear stranger." Of course she knew it already, but she could hardly tell him that!

Immediately, the look on his face changed. "It's Lavi. Just Lavi."

"An interesting name," she breathed – and was suddenly forced down onto the bed as he rolled on top of her. One hand clasped her wrists above her head and the other rested on her bare hip.

"But you already know that, don't you." The look in his eyes was dangerous.

"No – no, I've never seen you before." She struggled vainly against his strong grip; she had viewed his strength firsthand five years ago and was fully aware that she could not combat it with her own. "You're hurting me."

A tear fell down her cheek and he brushed it away with his free hand, then moved it back to her hip, and then over her stomach and down again. She tensed, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Don't lie."

"I'm – I'm not-"

He cut off her protests with a bruising kiss, biting her lip when she did not respond. The tears were flowing faster now, and she was nearly in convulsions with her struggles – he was forcing her legs apart – his tongue was invading her mouth –

"And I know who you are."

Her eyes were wide with betrayal as he whispered in her ear.

"Road Kamelot."

His hand, still damp from its previous location, muffled her screams throughout the night.

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Road, I am so sorry. Really.

Chapter 2 coming soon. This is entirely complete, and in five parts, so I'll post one… every few days, I guess.


	2. Karma Part II

Karma

Disclaimer: Um, no. Too out of character for that.

Uploaded because the ending of the first part just didn't go as well without this.

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"Take it"

His green bandana was clenched in his fist, and he held it out to her. She shook her head fiercely, otherwise unmoving as she lay curled up tightly on the bed, her head touching the wall behind her. He had taken the covers, and she was naked, but it seemed almost pointless to hide herself now.

"I said _take it_." He waved it in her face. "Wipe away the tears and get dressed."

"No." Her voice cracked; she was still crying. He sighed wearily and settled back on the bed.

"Do you want me to drag you out of here like that, without anything on, for the whole bar to see?" His arrogant smirk told her that he would be perfectly willing to do that, and enjoy it too. She shook her head again, slowly, and he looked satisfied. "Then get dressed and wash your face. You can't go out there looking like someone just died."

And he strutted out of the room, just like that – closing the door behind him, thankfully, but leaving her alone.

She could leave him now – run away and hide, never see him again.

But her pride would always let her know that she had lost so miserably. How had she forgotten that he had won once before? Yet at least that time, she had held a true advantage for some time.

She had to win. She had to crush him again, this time for what he had done.

She would never forgive him!

Nevertheless, her eyes quickly scanned the room for the window – there, to the side of the bed. The covers pulled tightly around her, she slid off the bed and crept towards it, straining on her toes to peer outside. It was a long way to the ground… and the window was high off the ground, and even enclosed with bars. There was no escape.

Had he planned this, then? The windows she had seen from outside weren't like this… The thought enraged her, and her eyes burned with tears yet again. He'd tricked her! He'd seen here there, and led her to this room so that she wouldn't be able to run away from him. The door – had he really locked it to keep others out, or to keep her in? The realization that she had been led into a trap made her sick. Immediately, she felt her stomach heave and she collapsed facing a corner, her hands barely supporting her body.

As soon as her head stopped pounding and she was strong enough to move again, she shuffled away from the soiled corner and began to search for her dress. There – on the floor in front of the bed, where she had left it the night before, when she'd… when he'd… it was a good thing that there wasn't anything left in her stomach to empty, else she'd have been sick again. Even the memory was painful.

She _would_ get revenge, she vowed. This time, it was for her dignity. She would break his heart and soul and force him on his knees, make him beg for mercy and never grant it… he would be pleading for death to take him by the time she was finished with him.

Minutes later, she was calmly walking down the stairs, slightly weak from a lack of energy, and holding on to the railing, but composed and dignified in every way. She even refused to acknowledge his suggestive wink (he was sitting at the bar, chatting with the innkeeper) and instead made her way to the exit. She didn't need anything to eat – she would rather not eat in this place, with its bad memories. If she was sick in here, in full view of everyone, and where she would certainly be blamed for it…

"Lady." He caught her arm; when had he left the bar? She refused to face him, instead turning haughtily away and made a futile attempt to tug her arm away from his iron grip. He made a sound of surprise, then leaned down to her ear and whispered in a tone loud enough for the entire room to hear,

"So cold, after your willingness last night?"

She froze. How dare he mock her so?! She whirled around, raising a hand to slap him, but he caught that hand and forced it downwards, barely caring to hide his amusement. "I refuse to listen to untruths," she hissed, "and allow others to believe it."

"What untruths?" He leered at her. "If I recall, you were certainly willing to come to my room, were you not?"

"I-" But she had been, hadn't she, even if she regretted it now.

"Well, then." He nodded to the innkeeper and started towards the door, her hand still clenched in his own. "We'll be off, good sir. Thank you for the wonderfully hospitable lodgings." The older man nodded, and she soon found herself out on the street that had been so cold and dark the night before.

The inn was out of sight by the time she spoke.

"I won't let you get away with this," she whispered, her voice quiet yet as hard as steel. He turned back to look at her, and her eyes hardened into a glare. "You're just a Bookman, aren't you. Have you really spent these past five years looking for revenge?"

"Revenge?" He sounded surprised. "I never thought of it that way… but in case you're wondering" – he pulled her closer to him and she squeaked as their bodies touched – "you've barely been on my mind until you walked into that inn."

"That's not true, is it?" She smiled arrogantly into his chest. "You hated me."

"Oh, but a Bookman feels no attachment."

"You're different. That's why your heart was so easily destroyed."

He placed a hand on her chin and forced her to look at his face. His eyes – there was no emotion in them. She inhaled sharply, feeling the beginnings of fear again for only the second time in years. That dead look… she'd seen it before, on that day that she had spoken of. Had she awoken a monster without realizing? Yet, how could he look like that and still behave as he did, with amusement and anger? It puzzled her…

"I was different," he breathed, "but I'm a true Bookman now. I exist to record history."

Fragments of the night before suddenly came to her mind. "It was Lenalee," she said, realization dawning upon her. "She broke your heart – no, you broke hers – and you've been driven to the beds of women ever since." She burst into mocking laughter, although it was slightly forced; she was not feeling very cheerful at the moment. "You broke her."

"Hm?" He looked surprised. "Is that what you think it is?" His grip had not changed, she realized – he hadn't reacted at all, let along as strongly as she had hoped. "Let me tell you the truth. I never was with Lenalee. I may have loved her, once, but thanks to your… treatment, I realized the folly of that feeling and soon gave up on her. I felt no envy when she moved on."

"You said she became an adult when she was younger than I am now," she pointed out.

"She did… she started to date Allen, and they got married. They just had a baby, did you know that? A little girl." He snorted. "Shouldn't you be the jealous one, then?"

He was right; even now, she felt a pang in her chest at the news. She really had loved him, years ago, and some affection still lingered… but she adamantly refused to show it. What bothered her more is that she'd been wrong yet again.

There wasn't time to worry about that, though. His other hand, the one that had been holding hers, had released her and slipped down to her hip, caressing it gently. She fidgeted, trying to move away; this was in the middle of the street! Her pleading, scared look was wasted on him, however, as his hand slipped down to deliver a sharp pinch to her bottom. She jumped, yelping in pain, and unconsciously moving closer to him.

"Stop that," she whispered, on the verge of tears. Her shame was causing her to forget all about her previous mission. "This is…"

"What?" He bent down, placing his ear near her lips, although he clearly had no intention of responding at the same volume. "You don't like everyone seeing our embrace?" She nodded, feeling even more embarrassed that she was giving in like this. "Then…" He nodded towards an alley. "There's a more private place, how about that?"

"Wha-no, NO, I don't want…" But he had already pulled her into the darkness and had pulled her skirt up to her hips. She placed her hands on his shoulders to push him away, but he was too strong – he managed to move closer to her anyway.

"You need to be taught a lesson, pretty little Road." He brushed her hair away from her shoulders and tugged the neckline of her dress down, nipping at the exposed skin. "You tried to manipulate me again, didn't you."

"I didn't-" She yelped in pain – he had bitten her!

"Lying is wrong, too. You shouldn't lie." He gave her neck another warning nibble, then leaned upwards, placing his lips on her ear. "For example…" His voice was just a whisper. "What if I asked you if you wanted me right now?"

"I _don't_ – I don't want-" He cut her off again by biting her tender earlobe; she burst into tears. "I said-"

"I told you not to lie." His fingers slipped downwards, making her wince; she didn't want to feel him like this! "See… You want me. Your body says so."

"No…" But his lips were on hers, cutting off her protests, and she found herself leaning into them as she had last night, forgetting everything again-

It wasn't until his pants were done up again and she was self-consciously smoothing her dress back down over her legs that she realized what she'd done. Her fingers halted in their motions, and she gave a shocked gasp, then bit down on her lip when he turned around and gave her a long, slow smirk.

"See?" He sounded so conceited, so proud – she was tempted to wrap those still fingers around his neck instead. "You _were_ lying. You did want me."

"I…" But she had nothing to say. That time, she'd gone willingly into his arms.

"That's right." And now she saw the cruelty in his smile, a look that she had only seen on one other face before. "You can't fight me."

She'd seen it in the mirror every morning.

And with that knowledge, she knew he was right. She couldn't fight him anymore.


	3. Karma Part III

Karma

Disclaimer: I don't own D.Gray-Man because Lavi is so out of character THANKS FOR THAT REVIEW DANTE. Ahaha. Bring Bookman Lavi back… he was cool.

Short chapter today.

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"Lavi…"

It had been three months since that fateful day. They spent most of their time traveling around; there didn't seem to be much of a pattern to their movements except the inevitable return to a battlefield. The sight of mangled and blackened bodies never once turned her stomach like his actions on the first night had done, but it made her less comfortable than she realized. These mortal beings had felt power with guns in their hands, yet they still faced the inevitable embrace of death.

Sometimes, she longed for it too.

"Lavi." Her fingers reached out to tug on his sleeve, like a small child reaching for his mother.

"What." He sounded bored, and didn't bother to face her. They had arrived in a small French town, near the Mediterranean Sea – a beautiful location, wedged between tall proud mountains and the glittering water. She almost wished she had forever to appreciate it.

"It's… nothing, it's nothing." She'd just wanted his attention, that was all. He seemed to notice this.

"Road, I have other things to pay attention to, more important than you."

Once, she would have been indignant at that comment, yet now she merely settled back, a step behind him, continuing at the walking pace that he had set from the train station. Even sharing his bed every night, she was barely worthy…

They continued in silence until they reached another inn.

This one was clean, and bright; there was no bar on the lower level, and the rooms were filled with natural light and featured large, open windows. She almost laughed at that; she had all the freedom she wanted, now, yet she would not escape. She had never even tried.

He tossed his traveling bag on the bed and promptly left the room. He didn't tell her where he was going – he hadn't for a long time, now – and she didn't ask. He would be back eventually. Instead, she retired to an adjacent room for a long, warm bath, always a comfort to her and a tribute to her female nature.

It was here that she could truly relax and be free from her constant worries and fears, her anger and self-condemnation, and that never-ending tension that she felt when around him. It was here that she could wash away the sweat from her body that had coated it every night, and would do so again this night. Her sweat, and his. It was here that she examined her pale body for the marks that inevitably would appear nearly every day, marks from the activities of nights before. It made her feel fragile to see them.

With a content sigh, she lowered herself into the warm water and let her long hair float around her. She could have stayed like this for hours…

And she did. Her fingertips were wrinkled by the time she returned back to her room, still garbed in a thin white dress, with her hair tied up on her head and dripping cooled water down the back of her neck. He had returned, as she expected, and was sprawled over the bed, quietly reading.

She said nothing, only moved to sit down next to him and smile. He did not return it. He never did, but she was not bothered by it.

In the morning, he disappeared again, before she awoke. She couldn't recall a time when she had awoken to see his sleeping face – or his face at all, for that matter. Sometimes she thought of asking him to stay, even for a little bit, or to wake her up before he left – but she never did. He had his duties, and it would be a sign of weakness on her part anyway. One time, she had suggested that they go for breakfast together, and he'd called it a "selfish desire" on her part; it would not really benefit them in any way. She'd been quiet after that.

Today, she dressed quickly and walked down to the edge of the cliffs. The timeless crashing of the waves on the rocks that the town was built on was peaceful, and she sat there for a long time, appreciating the eternal quality that it lent to the world. It was nice to know that some things would not change. Too many things had, in her life. Even he'd changed from the person she once knew.

He once wanted stability, too. He wanted to stay a Bookman as he had for all of his life, and was scared of the change that he was feeling. The care he felt for his friends was a new experience, one that he never should have felt. She smiled gently to herself; she knew as well as any that these feelings could not be controlled! She'd tried to, once, yet had slowly come to accept them as a thing that must be used to achieve her own goals. Apparently, he'd learned that, too.

He liked stability.

And suddenly, peering down at the waves, she felt a strange desire to see the cliffs below her fall into those dark waters and be consumed…

She pulled back, alarmed at the familiarity of this feeling. There _had_ been a time when she craved change, before all this had begun. She'd been lured into accepting her power with soothing words that whispered to her of all the changes that would occur. She'd believed them, hoped for them, dreamed of them – and then everything was perfect. She had a family. She had power. What more needed to change?

And things did – and then she had neither. And now she didn't even have a home to return to…

The reddish-gold rays of the setting sun struck her face and she found herself surprised that it had become so late already. With a forlorn sigh, she began to stand up, ready to return to the inn to meet him for the night-

-and stopped. The spark that the waves had inspired had developed into a longing for change, in some way. Tonight, she would make a change, just for tonight. She would not return. She would stay here, outside, under the stars, where change was occurring in front of her eyes.

She spent the sleepless night on the patio of a small café, sipping tea and watching the waves break on the rocks of the cliff.

In the morning, she returned to the inn.

She had half expected him to look for her the previous night, when she did not return, but he had not. He must be asleep, she thought. It was very early, and he might not be awake. If he was, he would probably have left by now and things would be no different than every morning.

That one night had inspired her, but it had made her realize how lonely she really was. Five years of wandering, without real companionship, her family dead or long gone, somewhere, and she had been desperate for the first familiar face to come along. She really had fallen into his trap… and she did not regret it. No matter how badly he treated her, she _needed_ him. It was a depressing thought, but… well, he needed her too, didn't he? That's why he always returned each morning.

Each day was the same, and she liked that.

But instead of an empty room, she found a familiar scene – from the wrong perspective.

There, in her bed, was Lavi. And there, lying next to him, although there was no contact between them, was a beautiful dark-haired young woman, completely nude. She was not Road.

She could not speak. She could not even _think_.

His face, calm and emotionless, was the last thing she saw as her legs gave out from under her and she fell to the cold wooden floor.


	4. Karma Part IV

Karma

Disclaimer: I should think there would be more mentions of her burning to death in here if I owned it.

Another short chapter. Apparently I kept writing "eyes" for Lavi so that needed lots of correction. The last part will need lots of revision, I think.

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She awoke to an empty room, the bed covers neatly tucked in under her and looking completely fresh yet she had no doubt of what had been there before. The image was still fresh in her mind.

As she waited for the strength to return to her body, she felt strangely calm. He had been with another woman. He had not been shocked or upset to see her at all, or even happy. It was if he had not cared at all.

Well, and what? Had she really cared for him? Weren't they just using each other to satisfy their loneliness, without any real attachment…

_He was using me too_. That thought was a shock to her. No, it couldn't be true. She was the manipulator!

Yet… he _had_ fooled her, before. Even now she remembered the cold steel through her ribs, the knife with which he had penetrated her body for the first time, five years ago… She pressed a hand to that spot, flinching with the memory of pain. That had been the first time, and every encounter afterwards with him had been no different…

The door swung open to reveal the innkeeper, a blonde woman just short of her middle years, and Lavi himself. She watched calmly as he flirted with the older woman – pinching her bottom, even – and the pair finally settled down on either side of her.

"Are you all right?" the older woman asked, a look of worry on her face.

"Fine." Her voice was cold. "Your inn's reputation shouldn't be damaged from this event." She couldn't help the slight ire that arose at the sudden look of relief on the woman's face. Was that all that the Frenchwoman was concerned about, after all?

It was then that he placed a hand on her shoulder and turned her to face him.

"You just collapsed. What were you doing all night?" He looked more angry than worried.

"Nothing." Looking into his deep green eye, she felt safe again… and secure. No, he had abandoned her! Suddenly, she had to fight to hold back the tears, and her teeth bit down on her lower lip in that desperate fight. "I was just… out, that's all."

"With a man?" Amused, he looked amused!

"Does the sea count as a man?" He frowned at the sarcasm in her voice and removed his hand.

"That kind of tone doesn't suit you, Road. You're more open than that."

"And how would you know?" she demanded, the calm evaporating as her voice rose in pitch and volume. "You never even tried to learn about me! You proved that last night, didn't you – with that woman, that _whore-_"

"Oh, her?" He shrugged. "What about her? She's just a prostitute." He learned forward, mirth sparkling in his eye as he feigned shock. "Were you… _jealous?_"

"What- I… No, I wasn't!" The desperation in her voice was clear, and he burst out laughing. "Lavi, shut up and listen to me! Please!"

"I… I just can't believe it," he gasped, in between bouts of laughter. "Road Kamelot, the eldest child of the clan of Noah, is _jealous_, of a prostitute!"

"But she shared your bed, didn't she? As I… As… I…" She trailed off with the sudden realization. They had both done the same thing, hadn't they? They'd known of the dangers of sleeping with a strange man for their own gains, yet had done so anyway. They'd known nothing about him, not even his motives, yet they'd done so, knowing that there was another in his heart.

Lenalee… he had loved her, hadn't he? And Allen, too – whatever he might have said, she'd known that lost look when she'd taken his form and died. That had been the hardest thing for him. She knew the feeling – she'd felt it too, for both of them – but she'd used it to her advantage. And then those two must have run off together and he'd never been with either of them…

So he resorted to strange women to use and share his bed, and she was no different.

"I can't hate her," she finished slowly. "You used her as you used me. I can't like her, but how different are we."

"I remember," he murmured. "You've said that before."

_I could never despise you._

Five years ago, she'd whispered those same words.

"I meant them." She turned her head upwards, meeting his gaze. "I meant them, then."

"And you still do now, don't you?"

There was a long silence before her hand finally moved to touch his. "Yes," she said quietly. "I do."

"Good." That same hand brushed hers aside and wiped a trickle of wetness from her face – she hadn't realized that she had been crying so hard until now, and suddenly she felt slightly cold. "Then let's go."

"Wait." Her hands reached to pull on his shirt. "Not yet…"

"Why?" He looked confused, then a look of understand dawned on his face. "Ahhhh, so that's it! You didn't get any last night, so you want it now, right?" There was a lewd grin on his face.

"I love you."

She gasped as the words slipped out of her mouth. Her hands, trembling, released him, and she leaned back slightly. The tears began to fall again, but she didn't care anymore.

"I love you," she whispered. "I really do."

And this was different from anything she had felt before – for her family, or for the two that she had cared most about, once. It made her feel weak, yet warm, and she wanted to cry and laugh at the same time. It was… wonderful, she thought. And knowing that he cared for her, too – he'd come with the innkeeper to check if she was well –

"Cool." He had waved the innkeeper out and was already shrugging out of his shirt. "Take that off, will you?"

She did. Right now, she would do anything he said.

They made love on the bed that was still soiled from the previous night.

It felt like years later when he got up to dress himself, and she sat up, not bothering to cover herself, although her dress was in her hands again. He hadn't said anything since that time, but she hadn't paid attention. Now, the warmth and happiness was fading to a more contented feeling, and once again her mind failed to control the words that came from her.

"Do you love me?" She gave a lazy, contented smile, confident in his answer.

"No."

And, just like that, the smile disappeared and her world – metaphorically, this time – was destroyed.

"What?"

"No, I don't love you." He shrugged. "What does that matter? Come on, let's get going. I don't want to pay for another day in this place if we're not staying another night."

The dress fell to the floor as she stood up behind him, still naked and vulnerable.

"You don't care about me?"

He sighed irritably. "All these stupid questions… Well, I care what happens to you. You're human, aren't you? That's my duty."

"Oh."

"So get dressed and meet me downstairs, then."

Human. She was human.

She had always been human, but suddenly the force of the word hit her.

Human. Fragile. Vulnerable. Weak. Emotional.

Once, she had prided herself on being separate from them – a Noah, a kind of super-human who had complete and absolute power and control. And suddenly, that dream had crumbled when he had seen through her dream – manipulated her – and taken her life.

What was that old saying? Fool me once, shame on you.

Fool me twice, shame on me.

He had manipulated her, _used_ her, and she had not complained. He had violated her, injured her body, and wounded her soul, yet captured her heart and toyed with it. And she had stayed. She had given it to him herself!

"I'm not coming," she whispered.

"What? Say that louder, I can't hear you." He didn't even pause at the doorway.

"I won't be coming with you anymore." Her voice was louder now, and she was sure that he could hear the pain in her voice – even the pounding of water as it hit the floor, falling from her eyes.

"Suit yourself. It doesn't matter to me-"

And he was gone.

And she was alone and exposed to the world, with nothing to protect her this time.

He had stolen her pride.

* * *

"_Lavi?"_

"_Hm?" He turned his head slightly and looked at her. "What is it? Shouldn't you be asleep now?"_

"_Mm, yes, but…" Her finger started to trace circles lazily on his bare chest. "I like being awake."_

"_What, are you afraid that something will sneak up on you when you're not looking?" He chuckled. She glared at him and elbowed him playfully in the ribs – through his gasps of pain, the chuckles escalated to full-blown laughter._

_When he had finally calmed down, she let out a long sigh. "Perhaps," she said finally. "I mean, there are lots of strange things out there – I know, I used to work with them! Who knows what kind of people or creatures could sneak in here at night, when we're sleeping and unaware."_

_His arm reached around her and tugged her closer, so that she was sprawled across his chest. "You don't have to be afraid of things," he explained. "I know how to fight, after all."_

_  
"But…" The worry was clear in her eyes. "You're a Bookman; you can't involve yourself in these things, right?"_

"_Yeah… but I can defend myself, and nothing is going to come in here and attack you and not me."_

"_Oh." She smiled into his tanned skin. "That's good, then."_

"_Yeah, so you can sleep now."_

"…_Lavi, does it hurt?"_

_He looked at her, surprised. "What?"_

"_Scars. I mean, they're all over your body. From when you fought akuma, and…" She trailed off, but they both knew how to finish the sentence: and fighting Noah._

"_Not really." He shrugged. "Scars don't hurt anymore."_

"_Mine does." She turned to look at him. "Sometimes it hurts, a lot."_

"_Oh?" He sat up and pulled her away from him, slightly, so that he could look at the dark scar that sat cleanly in the middle of her body. "Well, that was a pretty bad wound, but it shouldn't hurt anymore."_

"_But it _does_." She didn't need to tell him how she got that scar; he knew perfectly well, and he knew that she wasn't blaming him for it anymore, either. "It still hurts, sometimes… when you're asleep, it wakes me up, and I'm just left there, to lie awake at night."_

"_Well… it shouldn't." He lay back, clearly intending to go to sleep. "That's not what you're worried about, is it?"_

"_No…" and she wasn't sure if she was lying or not. Did she really fear danger and betrayal from outside the room?_

_Or was she more concerned about the man lying next to her?_


	5. Karma Part V

Karma

Disclaimer: Well, Lavi _does_ play around with ten-year-olds and then accuse Allen of lolicon. But no… he must love someone else…

The Tiki issue isn't resolved here, and Allen and Lenalee don't make appearances, so maybe there will be a short (?) sequel involving those two going off to look for Lavi, since he's acting like Cross and not contacting the Order.

Incidentally, I don't think any of you... or very few... are expecting this ending. Just a warning. :P

* * *

"Yeah, so I told th' wench that she can… she c'n…" The main trailed off into a drunken slur and reached for the new mug of ale that had appeared in front of him, courtesy of Lavi. The bookman merely plunked a few shiny coins down on the counter and nodded to the bartender. 

"Do go on," he said with a wide, fake grin.

"…go t'hell, and…" The man was suddenly on his back, snoring loudly. With a sigh, Lavi slid off the stool and glanced at the face – yes, passed out, quite drunk. And he'd failed to learn about that mysterious woman he'd been trailing, too. It wasn't that he was interested in her for any romantic reason; many men had spoken of a mysterious woman who was followed by strange deaths, and the Order had immediately suspected akuma involvement. Why, he was not sure, but there were akuma that had remained after the Noah had been dispersed, so there was no reason to let down one's guard.

With a shrug, he turned and made his way to an empty table, intending to have a seat and read a good book before finding a nice, pretty young lady for the night. This pretty little English town seemed to have plenty of them.

He had just begun to read when the door swung open to admit a petite figure, clothed in a dark cloak, although bits of white cloth showed through when it moved. The hidden face scanned the room carefully. When it reached him, the figure jumped, looked shocked, and immediately made its way to his table.

_Shit,_ he thought. What if it was some jealous boyfriend, or – worse yet – one of Kanda's hitmen?

Instead, the figure sat down and removed its hood calmly. He didn't know if he was relieved or worried to see the very familiar face gazing at him, with a determined look in those grey eyes that he had last seen with so much emotion.

"Nice to see you're doing well," he said, forcing a grin. It was a lie, of course – she had lost a considerable amount of weight, and he could see the bones in her hands clearly under the near-transparent skin – and it felt strange lying to her after he'd been so honest for so long.

"Same with you," she said quietly. There was a slight rasp in her voice; was she sick? It was raining outside.

"Would you like me to order something to eat?" he said quickly. "You look… well, you must've travelled a long way without any rest, or else you wouldn't look…" How should he say this politely? She seemed-

"Tired, I know. About the food – it's all right. I'm very hungry, but…" She suddenly looked thoughtful, then nodded. "No, maybe that would be the best thing."

"Sure." He waved to the bartender. "They serve excellent soup here; did you know that?"

After she had finished eating – and the amount had surprised him; had she not eaten in _weeks? _- he grinned lewdly at her. "So…" Well, this would spare him some effort – girls coming to find him instead! "Prepared for the… main course?"

He almost couldn't hide the surprise at her lack of response. "No thanks," she said, finally. "I need to… I could use some sleep, actually."

She _did_ look tired, although he almost didn't bother to hide his disappointment – she was a beautiful woman, after all, with a nice figure. "I think there's an extra room upstairs – just go ask the bartender over there. His wife runs this place."

"Thanks." Her eyes remained on the empty dishes.

"What, are you still hungry?" When she shook her head, he sighed and picked up his book. "Well, I wasn't planning to stay here any longer – I've got to be on the next boat to Belgium. Don't forget to sleep."

"Wait." Why was this scene familiar, she wondered. Her fingers once again were reaching towards his coat as she begged him not to go. "I need to talk to you."

"Ahhh, fine. What is it now," he muttered, collapsing into the chair. "You're very talkative sometimes, you know?" He was teasing her; his face was grinning, but she wasn't in the mood for that kind of thing anymore.

"Things have… changed in the past four months," she told him. "Since you left-"

"Since you left," he corrected her in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Since I left. Lavi, that's not the point. I- I need to tell you something important."

"What, you don't want to stay with me, do you?" He gave her a long look. "I mean, the sex was great and all, but I don't know if I want to deal with those outbursts of emotion anymore. I mean, it's a hassle, you know?" He ran his hand through his red hair and shrugged.

"A _hassle_?" Her voice quivered with emotion. "That's all it was?"

"Well, sure. I mean, guys can't deal with those kinds of things. I still don't know how Allen managed to keep his sanity and his relationship when Lenalee was – well, you know… knocked up. I guess he just deals with women better than I do." He chuckled. "Popular guy – you liked him too, didn't you."

"That's not important." Her fingers clenched into a tight fist as her voice grew louder and more impatient. "Why did you think… Why did you think of Lenalee then?" She looked at him sadly. "Was it because you loved her?"

"What? He shook his head. "No, that's not it at all. She just… she's just one of the more emotional people I know, and she was particularly hard to deal with back then. That's all."

"Back then? When she was…"

"Pregnant, yes." He couldn't help the grimace that crossed his face. "Glad that wasn't me."

"Lavi." Her tone was sharp, but she knew that anyone could hear her pain. "I don't want to – I mean, if I had a choice, I wouldn't want to stay with you. I don't think I could endure that kind of pain again."

"Then don't." He gave her a long, slow, analyzing look. "If you don't want to stay with me, then why are you talking to me."

"Because I _don't_ have a choice."

He shook his head, not understanding. "You don't have any money? Is that it? I'm sure there are places you could stay – no, I don't mean _those_," he added quickly, seeing the look on her face, "but… I don't know, I guess the Order would take you in or something, if you didn't mind the risk… or maybe being tortured."

"Didn't you need me, once," she whispered. "To learn about the Noah? I still know things; I could-"

"I learned everything I needed to," he said quietly.

_So he used me and threw me away._

"Then… Lavi, I need _you_. It isn't for the emotion, or anything, but…"

"What?" He shook his head. "I already told you that you could go to the Order for shelter and food and all that. I'm not a source of free things, and you enjoy the sex too. No deal there, is there?"

"That's not… how can you be so _stupid_," she cried, banging a fist on the table. "I don't believe this! It isn't the money or anything, but don't you have any sense of responsibility?" She suddenly paused and burst into laughter, tears pouring down her face in a direct contrast to her voice. "No, of course you don't. You've said it was a _hassle_."

"Whatever. Look, I don't have time for this kind of thing. Maybe you had something to tell me, but you should've just told me directly. I gotta go." He pushed his chair back and stood up, not looking at her as he made his way to the door yet again. "That's all there is."

"_Wait_." But he didn't. "Lavi. _Please_." He was at the door, leaving again-

She had to tell him eventually, didn't she? After all, she'd been looking for him for months now just for that one thing, for the chance to stay with him again. She was right; she _needed_ to.

"Didn't you think of what could happen after every night, for months?" she pleaded, eyes dry yet shining with desperation. "Lavi, you- I- I'm with child, damn it!" Her figure was trembling, and she suddenly realized she was standing in the middle of the room, cloak left on the chair. It was cold, in her thin white dress, that had gotten too tight and now had to stretch across her adult body. She was waiting for him to say something.

"What an inconvenience."

And he was gone.

Her legs finally gave out and she sank to the floor, his words echoing in her ears.

_What an inconvenience._

Which was all she was to him. He'd taken her, captured her, and destroyed her – and she was nothing to him but a tiny annoyance.

_What an inconvenience._

She didn't care that her dress was growing dark from the torrents that poured down onto the darkened material. She didn't care that her long hair was caught up in the flood, and was sticking to her face in strands.

All she could do was sit and stare at the space where he had been, and hear those words again and again.

_What an inconvenience._

_An inconvenience._

…_inconvenience._

* * *

How could one not feel fragile and mortal, knowing that another life is so dependent on your own? Yet she had been that way before, controlling and playing, a child who carried such precious items in her hands and let them shatter. 

It was when she first played with him that she had to realize the risks to her own existence. He had shown her death and ended the most dangerous kind of game. And then, years later, they had played again, with the same outcome. Only now, she had a life to _protect_, not end.

And how could a child who has played destructive games raise a child in a loving one?

No, this was not a game.

This wasn't a dream, either.

This was reality.

And although she was not alone, she had never felt more lonely in her entire life.

_No, I don't love you._

The flames had departed and she was cold again.


End file.
